


For a Good Time, Call...

by Spadesinspades



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Post Reichenbach, Pre-reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadesinspades/pseuds/Spadesinspades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>|| Inspired by a trailer I saw for a movie about a phone sex line... ;) ||</p><p>I'll tell you the whole story before we begin.  It starts with money.  Then words and voices, sex and intimacy, revelations, warfare, loneliness, jealousy and exile.  Repentance.  It ends with love.  Perhaps.  There is still hope.  There is always hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> "Tell me what you're wearing."

I watch.  See, observe, catalogue.  Sporadically at first.  I was busy tying up loose ends.  But it was an addiction that grew on me.  Crept in through my eyelids and flooded my body with need.  

Up at 0730.  Shower, tea, toast.  Newspaper.  Shirt, cardigan, trousers.  Shoes.  Keys.

0830\.  Taxi at first.  Walking as the weeks pass.  Expensive travel.  Clinic.

0900 to 1700.  A void.  Frustrating.  Occasionally lunch with Harry.  Spend most of my time doing what needs to be done so I can resume watching at:

1730\.  Back to the flat.  Tuesdays, shopping.  Thursdays, pub & pint with Lestrade.

1830 to 2000.  Dinner.  Telly.  Blogging.  Reading.  

2100\.  Tea.  Searching for sightings.  Message boards, believers.

2230\.  Bed.  Sweet dreams.

0230\.  Nightmares.

0300\.  Wake.  Washroom.  Water.

0315\.  Restless sleep.

Rinse, repeat.  Reliable routine.

\----

Fridays mean self loathing.  A wank, an extra shower.  But today, something is... different.  He's on his mobile on the way home.  He changes, different shirt, tighter cardigan.  Leaves again, takes a taxi.  I'm not prepared, I can't follow.  Have to wait it out.

0130\.  He returns.  Smiling.  Takes the stairs in the flat two at a time.  Gets on his mobile again and goes up to his bedroom.  Shuts the door.  Must be -

0500\.  A woman.  Out walking her dog, sees me lurking in the alley.  Threatens to call the Yard.  I'm forced to slink away.

\---

1000\.  He's slept in.  Wakes in bottoms, no shirt.  Pads around the kitchen.  I can see his scar in the morning light.

1130\.  He's taking a cab to have lunch with Mike.  His wallet is thicker than usual in his back pocket.

1200\.  I break into the flat.  Risky, stupid.  Nothing seems out of the ordinary.  I set up webcams in the sitting room and his bedroom. Also put one in my old room, just in case.

1300 to 2100.  Unforeseen complication.  Handled.  Sprint back to Baker Street to catch up on what was missed.

2200\.  Lights in the flat are on.  No visual.  Back to Molly's to consult the webcams.

2300\.  He's on the mobile again, stretched out on his bed.  Take-out containers litter the kitchen table.  Enough for one.  Something like relief floods through my veins.

2315\.  Still on the phone. 

2330\.  Who is he talking to?

2345\.  Have to bug the mobile.

2355\.  Fall asleep on the laptop.

\---

0830\.  Molly wakes me and offers tea.  I decline.

0900\.  Baker Street.  No movement.

1000 - 1130.  Chilly morning.  Consume four cups of coffee.

1200\.  Piss behind some bins.  

1215\.  First signs of movement.  He is alone.

1300\.  Leaves the flat.  Takes cab to cemetery.  Predictable.

1330\.  Break into flat again.  Narrowly avoid Mrs. Hudson.  Search his bedroom.  Find a business card.  Blank except for a number.

1425\.  Call.

1430\.  Oh.  <<Welcome to TOSSERS.  Time to GET HARDER.  Press 1 to enter your CREDIT CARD information NOW!>>

1435\.  Hang up.  Pocket card.  Leave flat.

1500\.  Back to Molly's.  Remember card.  Stupid.  Careless.

1730\.  Something like pity.  Something like understanding.  The loneliness can be... exhausting.

1900\.  Shower.  Finish Molly's shampoo.

2000\.  Send Molly to the store for more shampoo.

2010\.  Call number.  Enter her credit card number.

2030\.  Hang up after frustrating discussion with operator.  Will not allow me to speak to same 'service rep' as another client.  Records confidential.

2100\.  Contemplate ways to hack phone sex records.

2200\.  Call Mycroft.  Argue.  Hang up.

2345\.  Pass out on couch.

\----

1015\.  Monday morning.  Brazen, stupid.  Walk into clinic and pull fire alarm in empty exam room.

1030\.  Hide until everyone has evacuated.

1035\.  Find John's office.  Locate mobile phone.

1040\.  Upload code.  

1045\.  Faster dammit.

1050\.  Make a break for back exit as fire crews reset the alarm.

1055\.  Exit through utility door, triggering alarm again.  Grin.

1100\.  Slip into taxi and watch an exasperated John walk Sarah down the block for coffee.

1105\.  Mission accomplished.  No feelings of accomplishment, however.

1200 to 1700.  Pace Molly's flat.  Search for mentions of Moriarty online.  Get bored.  Pace the flat.  Order take out, eat nothing.

1700 to 2000.  Stare at mobile.  Wait for John to make call.

2015\.  Mobile chimes.  Remote to phone.  Listen.

\-----

"Tell me what you're wearing."

"Uh, well.  Nothing special.  Trousers and an Oxford shirt."

"Mm nice.  Would you like to know what I'm wearing?"

"Yes."

"Nothing."

"Oh, I... see."

"If you were here, I'd be unbuttoning your shirt and running my hands over your chest."

"A..and then?"

"Then I'd run my tongue up your neck and stop to suck on your earlobe.  Would you like that?"

"Uhn, yes."

"Then I'd kiss you, deep and hard.  I'd let my hands work at your trousers and rub your stiff, hard cock through your pants.  I'll bet it's huge.  Is it huge?"

"Yes, huge."

"Then I'd kneel in front of you and pull off the rest of your clothes.  Right over that huge bulge.  And I'd let it spring up and bob in front of my mouth.  Then do you know what I would do?"

"N..no, what?"

"I'd lick it from base to tip and then slide it into my wet mouth.  I'd suck you so hard.  I'd stroke you with one hand while I sucked on your balls.  Would you like that?"

"Uh huh."

"I'll bet you're hard right now, aren't you?  Straining against your trousers, precum leaking from your tip.  I'd bet you'd like to put your hand on yourself, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, yes..."

"Do it, touch yourself.  Tell me what it feels like to have your hard cock in your hand."

"God, it feels so good.  I'm so hard.  Fuck."

"Yes, good.  I'm hard too.  Pump it with me.  Think about my mouth wrapped around your cock, sucking you off.  Moaning around your massive girth.  Think about fucking my mouth."

"Ohh god..."

"Now think about my fingers sliding down from your cock to your arse.  Think about me slipping one wet, slick finger inside you.  Think about how good it feels as I suck you at the same time."

"Yes..."

"Now think about me slipping in another finger, then two, stretching you open while I let my teeth graze the top of your cock.  Imagine me sucking on your head, the pressure building.  Stroke yourself faster, harder.  Feel your cock pulsing in your hand."

"Jesus..."

"Don't come, not yet.  I have to be inside you.  My cock is aching to explore your arse.  Think about me pulling my fingers out to slick my own cock, slippery and wet.  Think about how it feels, pressed up against your puckered hole, pushing in.  Tight, but smooth, spreading you open.  Think about the way it feels as I push in past the head of my cock, the ridge rubbing up against the inside of your arse."

"Unnnnggghhh..."

"Are you close?  Can you feel me fucking you?"

"Yes!  God yes, I'm going to..."

"Come for me, come now, as I'm fucking you.  Come all over yourself."

"Ahhnnnn!!"

"Mmmm, yes.  That's what I like to hear."

"Good god...  That was...  How do I get you next time?"

"Just ask them if the Doctor is in."

\---

2045\.  Well.  Then.  

2050\.  That explains the extra money.

2100\.  Shower.


	2. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John finds that he has a frequent caller.

John's mobile is on the bed when the operator calls, but he doesn't hear it vibrating through the soft padding of blankets.  It's about an hour later, when he's just about to leave for the shop, that he realizes it's not in his trouser pocket and almost turns the flat inside out looking for it.  When he finally spots the flashing indicator light in the comforter, he mutters a quiet  _shit_ under his breath and shakes his head.  He calls the switchboard back and a multitude of apologies spill from his mouth.  He had forgotten about picking up an extra on-call shift for one of the other boys who needed a day off.

He plays the "new guy" card and is let off the hook pretty easily, under the condition that he'll work an extra hour that night.  Apparently someone had been calling for him all day and was only disuaded from hourly redials with the promise that 'The Doctor' would be working an extra long shift that same evening.  John promises to be available until sunrise, if needed, and dashes off to run his errands.

A few hours later, he's just putting away the last of his groceries when his mobile chimes.  He walks into the sitting room and stretches out on the couch before accepting the call.

"Hello?"

"John, all set?  We've got a call.  Same guy from earlier," the operator explains matter-of-factly.

"Yes, of course, put him through.  Insistent bloke, I take it?"

"That's an understatement," the operator replies.  John can hear him typing away in the background, probably entering the credit information.  "You just dial out the panic code if anything goes sideways, alright?"

John nods, but quickly follows it up with an audible "yes, of course."  He doesn't think it will be a problem.

"Alright then, you're on in 3... 2... 1..."

###

"Well hello," John says, casually.

"Hello," comes the response.  The voice has an odd synthetic quality to it, like it's not entirely natural.  John has spoken to people using voice changers before, but usually they're obvious and the callers self-identify as paranoid.  He wonders if this is in a similar vein, but a more sophisticated piece of technology.  He decides it doesn't actually matter and presses forward.

"What's your name?" 

There's a pause, dead air.  John looks around the flat for a moment, then tries again.

"You've been trying to get a hold of me all day, I hear.  Have we spoken before?"  John hears the man clear his throat and there's a rustling sound like a stack of papers being reorganized.  The lack of response is off-putting.  

"Look, you don't have to be shy, I-"  
"A recommendation from a friend-"

Both men speak at the same time and the words collide in a messy garble of half-finished sentences.  John apologizes and the caller apologizes and then the silence returns.  He takes a deep breath and attempts to start over.

"John.  My name's John, if that helps."

"It... it does.  Mine's... Jeremy."

John smiles into the phone as he speaks, hoping it will warm his words.  "Jeremy.  Nice to  _quote-unquote_ meet you."

"Likewise," comes the reply.

"Is this your first time calling?"

"Hardly," Jeremy scoffs.  "I have a mobile.  I make calls frequently, though I do prefer to tex-"

The end of his sentence sounds clipped, as though he's tried to bite down on the words before they could escape his mouth.  John chuckles but something prickles at the back of his mind.  He shakes it off as merely distraction.  Some unfinished chore nagging at his memory, or a whiff of deja-vu from some overheard conversation.

"What I meant was, is this your first time calling our phone line?"

"Oh."  Beat.  "Yes.  Yes, it is."

"Well, you should know that there's no need to be nervous.  We can talk about whatever you like, or I can direct the conversation.  Whatever makes you feel comfortable.  I'm very flexible."  John lets the innuendo hang in the air with a slight grin.

"I-  You-  Well-"  Jeremy attempts several beginnings to his response, but can't seem to resolve any to a satisfactory conclusion.  John finds this devastatingly endearing.

"Why don't I lead for now, and you just let me know if anything doesn't feel right," he offers.

"Yes.  Good."

"Tell me about your most intense sexual fantasy," John says.

There's the unmistakeable sound of a cup falling to the floor and rolling away on the other end of the call.  Jeremy swears into the phone and John can hear him moving - the rustle of fabric, footsteps on a hardwood floor and then a ceramic mug being set aggressively into a metal sink.

"Sorry about that," Jeremy finally responds.  "I knocked over-  I can be quite clumsy, it appears."

"No need to apologize, love," John replies, trying to keep the amusement from his voice.  He doesn't want to embarass the poor bloke.

"It's kind of complicated," he starts, "I need to think about how to answer that.  What's yours?"

"Strangers.  Anonymous sex."

"Really?"

"Mm.  Two consenting adults, knowing exactly what to expect out of the encounter, knowing that every touch, every breath in your ear is going to be new and exciting.  Knowing that you can close your eyes and see whoever you want to see.  Live out any fantasy you want to live out.  Having an incredible fuck in the back of the club, or in the shadows up against a wall, or in a perfectly awful motel room.  And then you just get to walk away.  You don't owe each other anything, but you get to keep the feeling of their skin under your fingertips forever.  The sound of their breathless moan in your ear.  The taste of their sweat.  That's yours.  They've given it to you and you've given it to them, forever.  And just think... One day, you pass them on the pavement.  And you catch each others' eye - there's a spark of recognition.  And the sensation of their tongue in your mouth washes over you and you know they're reliving the feeling of your cock in their hand.  In that half second moment, you share it together.  You're fucking each other in your minds and there is _nothing_ more intimate than that.  And then you just keep walking and they're just another face in the crowd.  But you'll always be able to think back and have that rush."

For a moment, there's no response and John worries that he's overstepped something.  And then:

"Submission."

"Beg your pardon?" He's not sure he's heard correctly.

"Submission," Jeremy repeats.

"You want to be dominated?"

"It's... more subtle than that.  Not the typical whips and chains fantasy.  More like handing over control."

John bites his lip and an image of 'Jeremy' starts to form in his mind, spread out on his bed, wanting.  "I take it you're used to being in control?"

"Almost always."

"You get off on the idea of someone telling you what to do?"

"I think I'd like the attention.  I like-" He pauses, considers his next words.  "I enjoy positive reinforcement."

"I get the sense that you present a tough exterior, but perhaps there's something else entirely going on underneath that," John ventures.

"How did you-"

"I, uh," he falters, but recovers quickly.  "I used to know someone with similar qualities."

Jeremy appears to backpedal, responding sharply.  "It's not exactly like that.  It's different.  I have a... business reputation to uphold.  I'm sure your _friend_ was a different case entirely."

"No, I didn't mean to imply that it was an ex or anything like that.  I-"  John sits up from where he was lounging and rests his head in his free hand.  "Shit.  I'm sorry, Jeremy.  Really.  I wouldn't bring up another man like that."

"It's- it's fine.  I overreacted."

John pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.  "What I meant to say was that I'd like to see the facade.  Appreciate it.  Stroke it in all the ways it likes to be stroked."

He can hear Jeremy adjust the phone.  "And then what?"

"Then heat it up.  Ignite it.  Burn it off of you.  Watch it melt into slippery, molten streams.  Watch it run down and off your body, evaporate from a pool at your feet."

"A-and then?"

"And then I want to watch you touch yourself.  The real you.  With no fortifications.  I want to instruct you on how you should be touched.  I want to tell you to go and to stop and to use more pressure and when to breathe and when to hold your breath.  And then, when you're shivering from desire, I'm going to make you touch me.  And I'm going to reward your obedience and punish your mistakes.  Is that something you think you might be interested in?"

"Fuck yes," Jeremy replies, his voice low and rough.

"Then tell me what you're wearing," John demands.

"Dress shirt.  Trousers, belt, pants."

"Good.  Like me," John replies, pulling off his jumper quickly.  "Let's try something.  Together."

"Alright..."

"Unbutton your shirt.  Slowly.  Feel the way the fabric lays against your skin and how it feels when you pull it away.  Are you doing it?"

"Yes, I-  it's undone.  Just.  One moment."  The sounds from Jeremy's end of the line are suddenly muffled and it appears he's moving to a different room.  John overhears the sound of a door closing, then the click of a lock.  He bounces his knee nervously, his pulse quickening in anticipation for Jeremy's return.  "Okay, I'm here."

"Take off your shirt.  Imagine you're sitting on the edge of the bed and I'm standing in front of you.  Think about my hands on your skin, warm and strong, pushing your shirt off your shoulders.  Can you see it?"

"Mmhmm..."

"Good, that's good, Jeremy," John replies.  He thinks he hears the sharp intake of breath, but he can't be sure.  He presses on, either way, opening his now un-buttoned shirt.  "I've taken mine off too.  I'm moving closer to you now, standing between your knees while you sit on the bed.  I take your hands and kiss each of your fingertips.  Do you like that?"

"I do.  God, I do."

"And now I'm moving your hands down my body.  I rest them on my shoulders and then I draw them down my chest, my stomach, to my hips.  I guide them to my trousers.  I want you to undo them."

"How do I-  Is there a button?  A zipper?  Are they the brown one-  UH.  I mean, are they brown?  What colour are they?  I guess it doesn't matter, I just want to be detailed, you know, accurate, so that I have a clear picture and I can see it, because it builds a more realistic-"

"Jeremy."  John's voice is firm and forceful over the connection.

"Yes?"

"Do as I say.  Now."

"Right, I... I'm doing it."

John uses his free hand to unbutton and unzip his trousers, leaving them open  _just in case._  "Excellent Jeremy, thank you.  Don't get hung up on the details, love.  Just stay in it with me, alright?"

"Alright."

"Now I want you to reach down and rub your hand against your cock, can you do that?"

"I can do that," Jeremy replies timidly.

"I want you to rub yourself through your trousers.  I want you to do that with one hand.  And I'm going to kneel down in front of you and suck every single finger on your free hand.  I'm going to put each one in my mouth and wrap my lips around them and suck them from base to tip.  I'm going run my tongue along the long extension of each finger while you palm your cock through your trousers.  I want you to feel yourself getting hard, pressing up against your hand.  I want you to ache, to strain against the fabric of your pants and the zipper of your fly.  I want to see your precum leak through the layers, and I want to hear you beg me to free your cock."

"John...   _John... fuck..."_

"Are you touching yourself, Jeremy?  Are you doing as I've instructed?"

"Yes," Jeremy replies, "I'm so hard.  Christ."

John is quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds from Jeremy's end of the call.  The rustle of fabric, the irregularities in his breathing.  John lets his hand slip under the waistband of his pants to readjust his own erection, which was becoming an increasing distraction.  He strokes it slowly, absently.

"You're incredible Jeremy," John says at last.   "I want to taste you.  I want to kiss you hard and bite at your lips.  I want to whisper all the things I want to do to you against your mouth and make you taste the way your name tastes on my tongue."

"John, please," he begs into the phone.

"Alright, listen to me.  Are you listening?"

"Yes, yes.  Please."

"I want you to take off your trousers and your pants.  And then I want you to lie on the bed, naked, on top of the covers.  I want to look at you.  Don't touch your cock, you understand me?"

"I do, I understand.  Just.. wait."

John hears Jeremy put the phone down while he strips.  There's some background noise as John assumes he positions himself, then puts the phone back up to his ear.

"Okay, I'm-  I'm here, it's done," Jeremy explains.

John's cock twitches in his hand as he closes his eyes and imagines how Jeremy looks, splayed out on the bed, erection resting against his abdomen.  He pictures him as lithe, young, with light brown hair, cut short against his head.  He imagines that he has freckles, or tattoos, that his skin is broken up by patterns or patches or colour.  He pulls on himself and almost moans into the phone.

"John, are you there?"

"I'm here.  I'm here, love.  Fuck, I'm just looking at you.  You're  _gorgeous_ , Jesus.  Look at you."

"I want to touch you.  I  _need_ to touch you, John," Jeremy breathes his name into the phone.

"Say it again," John commands.

" _John..."_

"Again," he says, "and touch yourself."

Jeremy moans.  " _John...  John..."_

John has started pumping his own cock with long, slow strokes.  He thinks briefly of the bottle of lubricant in the bedroom, but can't force himself to get off the couch.  He's too in this, he can't disconnect from what is happening.  This is different from the other calls.  He feels an intense pull towards the man on the other end of the call.

"Jeremy," he breathes.  "You're perfect.  Christ, you've made me so hard."

There's only laboured breathing in response.  The sound of flesh on flesh, an stuttered rhythm as Jeremy jerks himself off to the sound of John's voice.

"I want you to come," John says.  "Come for me.  I want to hear you.  I want to be the reason you come tonight."

"Yes, yes..."  Jeremy's words come in between gasps and moans.  John increases his own pace.

"Just think of me pressed up against you.  Think about us wanking together.  Think about feeling the muscles in my arm tense up as I try and tug one out next to you, just looking at you, watching you with your own cock in your hand."

"John,  _fffffuck,_ I'm so close."

"Yes, come on.  I want to watch you come.  I want to lick it off you.  I want to put your cock in my mouth and suck every last drop of it out of you."  John can feel himself getting closer to the point of no return; pressure building in his cock, every hitch of Jeremy's breath threatening to push him over.

" _John._  John.   _ **Johhhnnnn...**_ "  Jeremy comes with an agonizingly erotic moan, his breath crushing into the phone, muttering John's name over and over.  John grips himself more firmly with each stroke, feeling himself harden further as the orgasm crashes into him and spills come over his hand.  He huffs into the phone and they both listen to the sound of each other breathing as long, languid minutes pass.

John is just about to shower Jeremy in abundant praise when there's the sound of someone knocking on the other end of the line.  Jeremy swears and the phone is muffled in blankets for a moment.

"I have to go!" Jeremy whispers urgently into the phone.

"No, wait, please," John begs. 

"I can't, I'm sorry."

"How will I-" John starts.  But suddenly the sounds from Jeremy's world are replaced by dead, cold nothingness.  It's even different from the sound of their silence, which felt open and connected.  John can tell the call has been terminated.  He reaches out and balances his mobile on the arm of the sofa, then looks down into his lap.  A sudden emptiness settles into his stomach as he wipes his hand on his pants, pulls himself off the couch, and makes his way to the shower.

But even as the scalding water washes away the evidence of that evening's call, Jeremy has left an indelible mark in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, guys. I promise I would never abandon a fic. I apologize for the long break between chapters, but I intend to update more frequently now. Thanks for reading, it means the world to me. xo


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